Celebrate!

It all started with a box of salt cod I bought on a whim on Friday. I know it’s an odd ingredient, but salt cod reminds me of Greece. And I’d just finished the (hopefully final) edits on my novel (that alone is a good reason to celebrate), which is partially set in Greece. And thinking of salt cod and Greece made me think of the feasts we used to have there–tables groaning with food. So on Saturday, I began shredding the fish and my husband started making calls, and by 8:00 we had a festive crew nibbling on fried salt cod fritters with skordalia (kind of like super-garlicky mashed potatoes beaten with olive oil), vinegary beet salad, charred lamb chops and the pungent yogurt dip called tzatziki.

Now, nutritionists might thumb their noses at our feast and, divided up into grams of fat and sodium, they’d be right to do so. Lord knows, I’ve spent most of my life feeling guilty about living it up after decades of diet indoctrination. But I truly believe that there’s a place for meals like these. Rick Bayless, in his book Mexican Everyday, talks about how occasional celebrations are a natural balance to everyday moderation; “No one ever got fat on a weekly feast, but missing that feast can leave you with strong cravings (both physical and spiritual) all week long.”

I agree. Along wigh moderation, celebration is a foundation of a mindful eating practice. So I went into this weekend with eyes wide open, trusting that Sunday through Friday I would eat simply and wholesomely, that this celebration was yang to the more restrained weekday yin, and that I needed both to remain balanced. And I’ll tell you, what a world of difference it makes entering a Monday feeling fulfilled rather than remorseful.

So this week (or next if you’re not into spontaneity), I challenge you to have a feast. Make a roast, bake a cake, revel in the meal and the company. The one ingredient you’re not allowed to include? Guilt.

Experiment with Mushrooms

Heh, heh. No, not those kinds of mushrooms. Not even wild mushrooms. I’m talking run-of-the-mill brown cremini. Humble fungi like these (and their even humbler cousins, white button mushrooms) have nutrients like niacin that help regulate hormones, and potassium, which helps lower blood pressure. Mushrooms are also known to combat certain cancers. Cancer like my friend Merede is fighting.

When I got the call last week that Merede wanted some girlfriend encouragement and was looking for ways to eat healthier, I brought along a big pot of whole-grain “risotto,” dense with cremini mushrooms. Sure it was healthy. But as Merede inhaled the scents, tasted its rich flavor, and shared the meal amid the laughter and voices of her friends, I guarantee the nourishing benefits went well beyond the nutrient value of the dish.

This week, experiment with cremini in a variety of ways both raw and cooked. Try slicing them thinly and tossing them with shaved celery and garlicky vinaigrette. Or sautéing quartered cremini in olive oil with minced shallots and rosemary and mounding them on top of a sautéed chicken paillard (a thinly pounded chicken breast). Or . . . try my recipe for Merede’s Mushroom “Farrotto” with Roasted Butternut Squash and Shallots. I speak from experience in saying it will truly nourish both body and soul.

Savor One Thing at Each Meal this Week

Here’s your mindful eating practice exercise for this week: At every meal, savor one thing. I mean really, truly tune in. It could be the sharp, lemony aroma of cilantro in a salsa. It might be the way a tannic red wine grips you at the back of the throat. It may be the way your daughter squishes her face up as she chews her broccoli. Whatever it is you choose to notice, I promise it will take zero extra time out of your day. Yet it will have a profound impact on how you feel walking away from that meal.

Jay Dixit writes in a Psychology Today article, “When subjects in a study took a few minutes each day to actively savor something they usually hurried through . . . they began experiencing more joy, happiness, and other positive emotions.” In my own life, I’ve found that locking on to a particular moment is like boring a well into my soul’s memory.  Amidst a blur of activity, my thoughts become more and more concentrated until they hit the roomy, spacious place of connection. It is there that I feel wholly nourished. And while the moment itself may only last a few seconds, the experience–senses, emotions, thoughts–is engraved so deeply that I can dip into it and be replenished whenever I choose.

Savoring the moment is one of life’s great conundrums: it sounds so easy and yet takes such deliberate effort. I urge you to give it a try this week, though–with this arugula pesto if it tickles your fancy–and see how it nourishes you.

Seek Sustainability

Last week, we were at a friends’ house for dinner when talk turned to the Cooking for Solutions conference I was headed to at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. “It’s about exploring ways to create a more sustainable food chain,” I said. Brows went up. Heads tilted. And finally the question was asked: “What, exactly, does sustainability mean?”

seek-sustainability-radishesThe answer, it turns out, isn’t so easy to pin down. Over the past few years I’ve come to think of sustainability as a system of practices that is healthy for the environment, economically viable and a positive influence on the community that can be sustained over the long haul. Admittedly, it’s not cut and dry. But maybe, as Wes Jackson, president of The Land Institute, suggested at the conference, it isn’t meant to be.

Wes suggested that “sustainability,” like “justice” and “health,” is a value term. While we may not be able to pin down precise meanings for these words, we nonetheless organize entire societies around the concepts they embody and fight tooth-and-nail to defend them. I’d argue that a core ideal of sustainability is making sure we do things in a way that will preserve something for future generations.

That can all sound vague and stern and solemn, but bring sustainability to the kitchen and you’ll find color and life and flavor. When I make this sandwich with spring radishes and arugula from the garden and everything else sourced locally, for instance, it brings an added depth of pleasure to know that I’m nurturing the earth and supporting my local farmers . . . and you can’t get much more economical than bread and cheese.

My challenge this week isn’t about buying local or buying organic or anything that dogmatic. It’s simply about encouraging you to look at the effect your food purchases have–on the environment, on your community, on your budget. Because ultimately, sustainability has to be about what you value if it’s to have any value at all.